In Which Papa Chats With @stressghoul
Copia groans softly as he settles into the couch, stretching out his legs a moment in relief before crossing them. His arms are splayed out across the back as he observes you carefully.
“Tell me something, cara,” he begins, his thumb and forefinger rubbing circles into the leather of his glove. “You truly think I would not notice you in the crowd?”
He takes in your blue eyes, shining with emotion, the way your bangs lay gently across your brow. He loves the gentle brunette waves that tumbles across your shoulders. His chest grows very warm, a hand coming up to rest against his chest as his heart beats a lover’s rhythm against it. You are utter perfection to him.
“Come here. Come to your Papa,” he commands, crooking a finger in your direction.
His mismatched eyes trace your steps as you come to perch next to him on the leather sofa, and he motions for you to stretch out. Noting your confused expression, he places gentle hands upon you, guiding your body to lay upon the cushions, your head in his lap.
“Oh, amore,” he whispers sweetly down at the awestruck and nearly panicked expression on your face.
“You still do not understand, do you?” He continues, beginning to run his fingers through your hair. He leans his head down, your faces very close, noses nearly brushing. Copia watches as pink flutters across your cheeks. It makes him smile.
“I would find you, easily, every time, in a crowd of thousands. I find that, too often, you are mistaken on one thing, eh? You imagine me a fantasy, but you…you are my fantasy.”
Leaning back, he begins to hum, wiping at a stay tear that escapes your eye. He would remain here, with you in his care, as long as it takes.
No matter where he is, no matter what happens, he’ll be with you.
